IS THIS A ROBO-SAM I SEE BEFORE ME?
by Spirit Burner AKA Chick Feed
Summary: Tag to Series 9 Episode 14 (so spoiler alert) Sam made an empty promis, does he care? What does he see in the mirror? Sam Centric and no happy clappiness. How could there be?


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**Spoiler Alert : Season 9 Episode 14**

**Disclaimer : I'm glad I don't own this version of Sam!**

_A.N. How this and the previous couple of eps have left me feeling _

_about Sam's attitude towards Dean. Can I just say_ I don't like it! :(

_Where's my lovely Sam gone? Has Cas nicked his soul? I want to hug Dean (a lot)_

**IS THIS A ROBO-SAM I SEE BEFORE ME?**

-o-

Standing in his room, the door firmly closed, isolating him from the rest of the bunker, Sam gazed at his reflection in the mirror. The features looking back at him were familiar, and yet at the same time he was looking at a stranger. _This_ Sam revealed no emotion on his face and his eyes were cold, mimicking the frosty chunk of stone that was apparently now residing where his heart had once nestled. Sam carefully considered the mirrored image of himself, what it seemed he had become, and found that he didn't care.

Emotions always were an expensive luxury, a dangerous distraction. Sam had already put most of his out with the trash, choosing to keep only anger, bitterness and disillusionment. He didn't miss the rest. He had let go of them easily, without caring.

He had just made a promise which, even as he said the words, he had no intention of keeping. An empty promise to the ghost of a young man who once was his friend. A young man who had given up all his life had been and everything it yet promised to be, in order to take on a mantle that he never chose, never wanted, and who had strived to help Sam and the other. That sacrifice had led to fear and hurt for those that Kevin Tran loved and, in the end, it killed him. A boy who's life was snuffed out by an Angel wearing Sam's own face. And yet, somehow, that boy had born no grudge. Gave no blame.

Despite everything Kevin had suffered, everything he had done, everything he had given to the cause, Sam felt no guilt in making the boy a false promise. It didn't cause him any worries, didn't bother him. He didn't care. Promises were nothing but words after all. Promises had no power over anyone. Promises alone didn't bind you. They were no effort at all to break. And lies were so damn easy.

Sam experimented with a smile, wondering if he would see the face in the mirror soften, the eyes become warm. There had been a time, centuries ago, when Sam could smile so easily. Now a smile felt foreign, out of place. All he had left were tight lines or sneers. Humor had become a twisted thing. It had degenerated into comments and reposts that served no purpose other that to cause discomfort or hurt. Sam didn't care. What was there to _really_ laugh at anyway?

It suddenly occurred to Sam that the person he was looking at, the Sam that was him now, was probably a lot like the Sam he had been when he was without a soul. When the other man had named him _Robo-Sam_. For a very brief moment, Sam considered this new realization, before giving the slightest of shrugs. So what? The comparison didn't bother him. Sam found that he honestly didn't care. And anyway, when all was said and done, he had been a better Hunter for it hadn't he? Better for not caring.

Sam's thoughts finally turned to the other man, the one he used to acknowledge as his brother. The fact that Sam and the other shared the same father, shared the same blood, was purely a physiological thing. Nothing more than an unfortunate fluke of nature. Sam hadn't exactly had any say in who was to raise him. He had never been given the option to state who should be the one to make certain that child Sam's needs were met. And he had _never_ begged the other man to protect him. He most _certainly_ didn't ask the other man to die for him, never! All those things had been entirely the man's own decisions. The man had chosen to take it all on himself, there had been no consultation with Sam, no respect shown for Sam's own wishes. And so, Sam owed that man nothing. He had no real reason to care about the man.

Neither had it been ruled that Sam had to carry any sense of obligation or duty towards the man he had been mistakenly calling brother. Whatever the other man felt about it, Sam couldn't bring himself to care about that either.

Having the misfortune to know the man as well as he did, Sam had no doubt that it would be in it's room, satisfied that he had the right to wallow in self pity. Blanketing himself in confusion and imagined hurt. Telling himself he had been abandoned, likely even to be convincing himself he was the victim of a perceived betrayal. Pathetic really.

Time and time again it had been Sam who had to listen to the man snivel about how everything that happened was all his fault, how he alone was to blame. Sam felt as though he'd been played, and he had always done what was expected of him. He had sniveled right along, telling the man _not_ to take the blame, making the man feel better, insisting things _weren't_ all the man's fault, sounding like he cared how bad the man claimed to feel.

In reality, the cold fact of the matter was that the other man _was _the sole instigator, everything _was_ his fault. Sam now saw that all the idiot's _poor me_ attempts at self blame were actually fully justified. The man was guilty as charged.

Sam watched the sneer appear on the lips that were the reflection of his own. Knowing all this, did he then hate the man? This ex-brother? The man who had proven time and time again how uniquely and wholly selfish he is? Sam searched within and found…_Nothing_. There was only one conclusion Sam could possibly come to. That he harbored no hatred for the man what-so-ever. He couldn't. In order to hate the man, there would first need to be some sort of feeling about him.

So, there it was then. Sam turned away from the mirror, no emotion evident on his face, or breaking through the cold of his eyes. Sam simply accepted that, _no_, there was no hatred. Sam didn't care enough about the other man who used the bunker even to be able to give him that.

**-o-o-o-o-**

**_A.N._**** Oh, crap! :(**

**WIND WALKER : Anyone waiting for next chapter – I went back to the conference centre today to finally pick up my lap top cable, only to find that someone apparently spotted it, recognized it was mine (How?) and has kindly (growl) taken it with them. So, still unable to use my bloody lap top until I can track this, er, ****_wonderfully helpful_**** person down. (Seethe). This piece was done on the other half's net book. Now I've got eye strain! Chick xxx**

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